


A meal shared.

by Munnin, yakalskovich



Series: Necessary Pebbles verse [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Bureaucratic failure, Cooking, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munnin/pseuds/Munnin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yakalskovich/pseuds/yakalskovich
Summary: After cargo pilot Bodhi Rook has a run in with one of the Eadu scientist, Galen Erso has to come straighten things out.





	

Bodhi knew he’d lost the argument as soon as he lost his temper. But this pompous ass of a scientist was pushing all his buttons, all at once. It wasn’t Bodhi’s fault the whatever-the-hell-it-was machine was broken. He hadn’t packed it. Hell, when he picked it up on Spindrift, the box was sitting upside under a pile of other equipment.

And yes, it’s late. It came halfway around the galaxy! Even in hyperspace, travel still takes time! And the whatever-the-hell-it-was was not the only cargo Bodhi had to pick up. The Empire wouldn’t pay him for half empty hauls.

And of course the crate was wet! This was bloody Eadu! Everything was wet here. If the scientist had collected it when Bodhi signalled he was coming in, he could have unloaded it with the covered lifter with everything else. But oh no! This one had to be signed for! And this guy was so important he’d _had_ to make a mere cargo pilot wait.

Tired, wet and fed up with being yelled at, Bodhi lost his temper.

Now he and the scientist were standing toe to toe, screaming at each other.

“My superior will hear of this!” the man snorted imperiously. “You just wait and see! You’ll never be allowed on this route again!”

As if an order to fly that unwieldy space turtle of a ship through these storms was a privilege he should be grateful for.

Only Bodhi was grateful; grateful not to be hauling kyber from Jeddah. He hadn’t been back in nearly six years and he was fine with that. Looking back hurt. Best not to look.

“Fine with me! I did my job!” Bodhi growled back, tossing the water out of his hair like a dog. “Tell your superior! I’m here. I’ll wait!”

Because what else was he going to do? He was tired, wet, fed up and now stuck. The delay had cost him too much time. The take-off and landing window for the moon’s orbit was past. He’d have to wait out the seven hour night of Eadu Prime’s planetary shadow or get docked for wasting a full tank of fuel just to break orbit. Either way, he was parked here overnight.

He stalked back into the ship, pulling up the cargo door and shaking off his mostly-but-not-enough-for-this-place waterproof jacket. If this superior wanted to yell at Bodhi, he could come down here and find him. In the meantime, Bodhi was going to get dry and cook himself a meal.

Most Imperial facilities like this had a pilot’s mess and bunk room for exactly this kind of situation, but Bodhi preferred not to use them. They always smelt of socks and stale farts. And the kitchen would be filthy. There were just a few things Bodhi could do well – fly, keep up to date with imperial regs, and cook.

Finally dry and warm, he started in on making dinner.

As he was cooking, a scruffy man approached the ship, wrapped in a ratty coat against the weather. The man didn’t look like a scientist, let alone a head scientist.

Bodhi looked up from his pot, testing his seasoning. "Close the door! Everything's so wet." He could deal with the cold alone. Jedha could get unbelievingly cold but at least it was dry.

He looked the man over, frowning. "Are you lost?"

"I don't think so," the man said. "If you're the Imperial pilot, which looks likely. May I come inside?"

" _The_ Imperial pilot." The emphasis came with a resigned sigh as he put down the spoon, turning off the heat. There was no point letting his meal burn while he was dealing this. He gestured the man in. "Yes, I'm the pilot."

The man came inside and sniffed the air with a smile. "Real cooking!" he said, smiling at Bodhi. "People told me there was some kind of upset?"

Bodhi stood, taking a slow calming breath through his nose as he closed his hands behind his back in something close to attention. "One of the facility's scientists. He got upset. The machine he ordered arrived damaged. I can show you the manifest, I noted the condition of the crate when I collected it. I didn't open it. The seals were undamaged." He reported it in short bursts, looking straight ahead rather than at the man.

"Why did you come all the way if you knew the crate was damaged?" the scientist asked mildly.

Again, that breath, trying to keep his temper down. "It was marked, not damaged." It almost came out as a growl. "And it was one of three _dozen_ crates I brought in this shipment. Look, I get the thing was delicate but I handled it the same way I handle everything I move. _With. Care._ I had no way to know it was damaged. If I had opened it at any time, I would have lost my commission." He looked at the man with a tired and angry frown. "Look, I'm just doing my job."

"I can see that," the man said. "And when you are done with it, you seem to cook quite well." The last is said as a compliment, not an accusation. "Did you document the state of the cargo when you loaded it?"

Bodhi grabbed a data pad and queued up the manifest with all the relevant notations. He was very thorough about keeping notes. It was an ass covering thing. He handed the pad to the scientist and went back to stirring his stew. He left the scientist to read it, fetching down two bowls from his little kitchenette cupboard.

The man kept mentioning the food. He was clearly hungry.

The scientist took quite some time reading the manifest and checking all the salient points. "We really needed the equipment," he sighed.

"Find another one.” Bodhi muttered. “I'll bring it on the next run. Or someone else will if you're firing me." He offered the man a bowl and sat down, not waiting to eat. It wouldn't be as good cold. The stew was thick and fragrant, the sort of warming stew you needed on cold desert nights.

"Seems the machine is in the critical path," the scientist said, sitting down with his stew as well. "Thank you very much for this. What planet are you from?"

Bodhi didn’t answer at once, lingering over his stew a moment before getting up to add a pinch of some spice, stirring and tasting again. "I don't know you. Not even your name. And you don't know me." He shook his head, his tone a little hostile. "Not a good place to start swapping life stories."

"I simply wanted to know where the recipe is from," the man said. "And my name is Galen Erso, chief researcher in this unpleasant hellhole."

"Bodhi Rook." He answered, taking another spoonful of stew, "The recipe is from Jedha, but the spices are from Trandosha." He shrugged. "I like the flavour, not as sharp ,and they age better."

"Jedha," Galen Enso said perking up. "Guess it produces more than kyber crystals and mysticism. Of course, even in the most numinous places, people need to eat."

Bodhi sniffed and shrugged, not meeting Galen's eyes. "More to a place than religion. Or what it's built on." There was more than a touch of defensiveness in his tone. "More to a city than what can be mined from it."

"Culture," Galen said. “Colour. Minds and souls for whom this is what matters, not the spiritual aura."

Bodhi cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to work out if he was being sarcastic. After all, wasn't the kyber stripped from the holy city being brought here?

"The mineral resources must have been a bane for your world," Galen said. "I know that. And I am still grateful for the culture which created this recipe. Tell me, Mr. Rook, what is the best thing about your home world, for you?"

"It's not my home." Bodhi stood, scraping the last spoonful from his bowl and setting it down by the fresher to wash. "It's just where I grew up." He kept his back to Galen as he cleaned up, his little cooktop folding away now that it was cooled. He still had his back to Galen as he answered. "People expect Jedha to be hot. It's not. Deserts don't have to be hot, just dry. Jedha is cold."

Bodhi turned to see if Galen was done. "When there's just enough moisture in the air, maybe once or twice a year, there will be frost. Dawn light, it looks like diamonds."

Galen handed him back the bowl. 'Thank you, that was delicious." He thought for a moment. "I have seen cold deserts -- black gravel that will scour the paint off your craft if the wind comes strong enough from the wrong direction."

Bodhi nodded. It was a good stew. Needed more of that floury root he picked up on the way. Good for thickening up the stock. Bodhi thought nothing of sharing his meal. It seemed natural to him. You have food, you share it. An Jedha habit perhaps. "Jedha's burnt red. The sun is cool but the ultraviolet is high. Burns everything red eventually.” He shrugged. “But I could imagine black. Like this place if it ever dried out. When was it?"

"I tried to live there for a while," Galen said, shrugging. "I've lived in a lot of places, following the research." There was a carelessness in his words that might hide some more personal meaning.

Bodhi had a feeling there was more to it but didn’t probe. It wasn’t wise to ask too many question, especially about research like this.

Keep your head down, do the job, get paid.

Bodhi hesitated a moment before grabbing a flask out of another cupboard and two chipped enamel cups, pouring no more than a slosh into each. "Not strictly regulation. But I'm not flying till planet dawn, so..." He put the bottle back and held one cup out to Galen. "To keep the rain out."

Galen took it. "Thank you," he said. "That's much more important than strict regulations. Out here, we need to make things work more urgently than rules."

Bodhi nodded and sipped the cloudy liquor, tasting the tart crispness of the berries it was made from. A nice clean way to finish a meal, and warming. "Find a replacement for the machine, I'll pick it up next run." He offered placatingly. "Only makes sure they check it before pick up this time. I don't want to be blamed for breaking another one."

Galen nodded. "This is the Empire," he agreed. "They have the funds anyway, so we'll let the bureaucrats find a replacement while we try to provisionally fix the damaged one. Damaged doesn't mean ruined, after all. We may be stumbling up the critical path instead of marching, but we'll get there."

Bodhi cocked his head. _They_ and _we_. The scientist didn’t consider himself part of the Empire. Like Bodhi, he just works for them. "Not an idealist then?" It sounded like a non sequitur, the way it comes out.

"Only where science comes into play, not politics," Galen said, picking up the unspoken thread of their conversation effortlessly. "And their hiring methods can be a bit roughshod."

Bodhi was about to make a glib comment about whatever pays the bills but that last statement, however casually said, carried a heavy unspoken weight.

Bodhi himself wasn't conscription but that didn't mean he was unaware that it happened. Something about the scientist's words made him take a half step forward, feeling oddly... protective? Was that it? Or was it just sympathy?

He bought himself a moment by refilling their cups, a little deeper this time. Cloudberry gin might be hard to come by but there was no point hoarding what should be drunk.

"Thanks," Galen just said, accepting the second drink. Cloudberry gin had a warming, relaxing effect and Bodhi leant against the bulkhead, just letting it in.

He studied the man, _Galen_. There was a roughness to him, a lack of both that imperial polish and the arrogance the other scientists carried. He had to be able to do something. Something special. They'd never have let him lead the project otherwise.

"You should let me know. If you want something like that." Bodhi nodded towards the cups. It was a gamble. There was a very fine line between picking up small luxuries and black market trafficking. "I trade with some of the other cargo haulers. No sane man can live on pilot's rations."

And it did help to grease the wheels. Small favours made officials easier to deal with.

Not that was why he was making to offer to Galen.

Why was he making that offer to Galen?

"Creature comforts," Galen said. "I'd like that. Thanks." He looked up at Bodhi's face from where he was sitting. His eyes were a light, reddish brown, almost maroon. "The made this herbal concoction on Lah'mu, strong liquor with a bite fierce enough to clean out the sinuses after the icy dust."

"Lah'mu? That's old Neimoidian territory, isn't it?" Bodhi went quiet a moment, thinking. "I know someone who might be able to get that." He sat his glass down and checked his next set of runs. "Yeah, yeah that's doable."

“That would be good," Galen said. "Eadu isn't all that different -- black rocks and cold. It’s just wet here and dry there." As if he was telling himself it wasn't all that bad, or didn't matter.

"Get used to anything in time." Bodhi shrugged, "if you have to." He was not hugging himself. He was just staying warm.

"I can do my work here," Galen said. "So what's a bit of cold and wet?"

"It is worth it? The work?"

"Yes and no," Galen said. "It's what I was born to do, but not quite the use I had in mind."

Bodhi studied Galen's expression. Even for a high up scientist, that's not a very safe thing to say out loud. Not the way things were going.

And not to a virtual stranger.

"Clean and simple energy for billions and trillions of people," Galen said. "No matter how far we have come, it's always a worthwhile goal that can improve lives."

"Do you really believe that's how it will be used?" Bodhi asked, a brow arched. He finished off his cup and cleaned it away. It gave him a chance to think. Galen seemed very willing to talk but Bobhi... Bodhi wasn't sure he was ready.

Galen got up. "It's what I had in mind," he said. "Alas, fate had other plans." He shrugged. "Thank you for the meal and the drink. Both were excellent."

Bodhi took back the cup with a small nod. "I'll see what I can do about your herbal drink." He tilted his chin at Galen with something close to a smile. Only it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'd say next time you cook. But something tells me you're not much use in that department."

Galen gave a dry laugh. "None at all, really," he said. "Our rations here are bland and generous, but not something you'd notice. Not like that stew."

"Have to lay in extra food then." Bodhi answered with that not-really-smile. He nodded towards the door. "Get on. I'll see you when my run comes this way again."

"Looking forward to it," Galen said, bracing himself, then stepping out into the Eadu weather.

Bodhi pulled the hatch closed and leant against it, waiting for the drips around the seal to stop.

The gin was warm and heavy in his veins, which helped. It was a Jedha tradition to feed anyone who came to your door the best you could. It was just what he grew up with. And yet, he felt like there was more to that than just a meal with a man who could have made his life hell.

He shook his head and started rolling out his sleeping mat. Thinking could wait. For now, he was warm, sleepy, and just a little bit tipsy. Bodhi planned to make the best of it and get a good night's sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written as part of a continuity for Milliways but stand alone as stories.


End file.
